


It's All Okay

by kikabennet



Series: Raising Yevgeny Milkovich [16]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian, Car Accidents, Cute Kids, Family Drama, Family Feels, M/M, Married Life, Toddlers, married drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:46:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5538665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikabennet/pseuds/kikabennet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 16 of the "Raising Yevgeny Milkovich" series. After all of the drama starts to fade with Yevgeny's accident and time passes, the family faces another crisis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As usual thank you for the comments, kudos, bookmarks and ideas! I'm sorry this one took forever-I hit a writing road block. I'm all better now! I think! Enjoy!

“Okay, ready?” Yevgeny asked, his eyebrows raised high.

 

“Ready,” Ian and Mickey said together, each holding a smaller child. Mickey had Izzy and Ian had Gavrel.

 

Ian grinned as he leaned his crutches against the wall and slowly walked from one end of the living room to the other. He smiled and walked back the other way. Izzy and Gavvie stared, confused, but Mickey and Ian clapped for him. Christmas break was almost over and Ian, Mickey, and Svetlana had all been worried about Yevgeny going back to school, but he seemed to be recovering wonderfully. Of course, he'd have to miss gym class for a while.

 

A knock sounded at the door and Ian stood up, setting Gavrel down.

 

“That must be Mom,” he said, moving to open the door.

 

It wasn't. It was Mrs. Gerber. Ian almost lost his balance. Mickey stood up abruptly, almost forgetting he had Izzy in his lap.

 

“Hello,” she said solemnly.

 

Ian said nothing. Mickey moved to his side, still holding Izzy. If he wasn't holding her, he might strangle this woman.

 

“I need to speak with you,” she said.

 

“That's good because we need to fuckin' speak with you too,” Mickey said sharply.

 

Ian let her inside. He told the kids, “Go outside and play for a little bit. Yev, you'll be alright?”

 

Yevgeny nodded. He'd been going in and out for days now, and even up and down the stairs albeit slowly. Once the children were outside, the three adults stared at one another. Ian and Mickey staring at Mrs. Gerber.

 

“It's been eating at me for a while now,” She said, digging around in her pocket and retrieving a folded piece of paper. A newspaper clipping, they could see.

 

“You know who hit Yevgeny,” Ian said, and to his surprise, she nodded.

 

“The fuck's wrong with you?” Mickey barked. “Do you know what we went through? What our son went through?!”

 

Again, Mrs. Gerber nodded. She silently handed Ian the newspaper clipping. He opened it up and stared at it.

 

“I don't care who you're protecting-” Mickey continued, but Ian cut him off, touching his arm.

 

“Mick,” he said quietly.

 

“Fuck! What?” Mickey demanded, irritated at his tirade being interrupted.

Ian showed him the clipping. It was an obituary. A teenage girl named Jeanette Walker.

 

“My granddaughter hit your son,” Mrs. Gerber said in a soft, quaking voice. “She had been drinking with some friends and stole her father's truck. She drove here because she was afraid of her father-worried he'd called the police on her. She came to the door sobbing that she'd hit a little boy on a bike. By the time I got outside, Mr. Knnutson was already by his side calling 911.”

 

Ian motioned for her to sit on the sofa and Mickey shot him a look. Ian ignored him.

 

“I panicked with her,” Mrs. Gerber said, sitting down. “I told her to leave. I told her to go home, and she did.”

 

A few tears slid down her cheeks.

 

“I've felt guilty about that ever since, and twice I've come to your door and lost my nerve,” she wept. “And then three days ago, I got the call from my son that she'd done it again-drink and drove, and crashed into a tree.”

 

Ian silently moved to the other side of the living room to fetch her some Kleenex. She took one and mouthed a thank you to him. Mickey huffed, looking away. His pity was not on the neighbor. He was still wrapped up in Yevgeny's despair.

 

“I feel like her losing her life like that was not punishment for her, but for me,” Mrs. Gerber said. “I'm the adult. I should have done the right thing, especially having children of my own. I should have known better.”

 

“Yes, you should,” Mickey said, and Ian looked at him.

 

“I came here not only to clear my conscious,” she explained. “But I'm ready to confess to the authorities, to take responsibility and whatever's coming to me. I'm just hoping you'll give me a day or so to find someone to rehome my dog to. She's fifteen.”

 

Ian looked at the obituary again. He was suddenly filled with the memory-the foggy memory-of taking an infant Yevgeny on the road- leaving him in the car while he made money giving oral. A hungry, shrieking baby with a bad diaper rash from not getting changed all night, in a hot car. All Ian. An accident, he'd remembered saying. He remembered hearing the stories of Liam and Fiona, and how it had all been a terrible accident. In Jeanette's obituary photo, she was smiling brightly, and her birthdate indicated that she was seventeen. The same age Ian had been when he almost killed Yevgeny. He handed the clipping back to her.

 

“What's done is done,” he said simply with a sigh, the anger draining out of him.

 

“Ian,” Mickey said hotly.

 

“No, I want to take responsibility,” she informed them. “I am going to the authorities. I should have never kept this from either of you.”

 

She dabbed at her eyes with the Kleenex.

 

“If your children make mistakes,” she said. “Do the right thing. Don't protect them if it means they could make the same mistake again and lose their life.”

 

Her bottom lip quivered and she let herself out the door. Ian and Mickey stood there, unsure of what to do or say.

 

“The fuck was that?” Mickey demanded, throwing his hand up. “Were you sympathizing with her?”

 

“She lost her granddaughter,” Ian argued weakly.

 

“We almost lost our son!” Mickey snapped. “Do you not remember how he looked hooked up to all those fucking machines?! Fighting for his fucking life?!”

 

Ian ran his hands through his hair, turning away from Mickey. Mickey spun him back around by the shoulder, his eyes searching Ian's for a reason he would not want to be angry too.

 

“I did it too!” Ian said, breaking eye-contact. “Don't you remember me kidnapping Yevgeny? Leaving him in a car so I could go blow some dude for gas money?! I remember how horrible it feels, okay?”

 

“You got arrested for it,” Mickey reminded him pointedly. “You got help. You were sick, Ian!”

 

“That girl was drinking!” Ian threw back. “She was out of her mindset just like I was!”

 

Mickey let out a breathy laugh, but not the funny kid.

  
“I can't believe you're tryin' to compare the two,” he said.

 

To Mickey's surprise, Ian burst into tears, like a water balloon being pricked. It startled him. He tried to touch him, but Ian jerked away.

 

“I've been sick to my stomach over Yevgeny because of what I did to him back then,” Ian sobbed out. “I've been thinking about it every fucking day! I'm no better than whoever hit him, and it turns out to be some asshole teenager just like I was when I almost killed him! I love Yevgeny, Mickey. You will never know how much I love that kid, but, Jesus-”

 

Mickey didn't care if Ian tried to move away, he pulled him against him and let him cry on him. Ian had been the most hell-bent of all of them finding who hit Yevgeny and now it was out in the open why, because he felt if he could punish that person, in some way it would balance out what he did before. Mickey rubbed his hair and kissed his cheek.

 

“It's okay,” he said. “It's all fucking okay.”

 

Ian pulled back a little, swallowing hard and wiping at his eyes. Mickey brushed his thumb across some falling tears.

 

“I do know how much you love Yevgeny,” he told Ian. “And I've known that for a fucking long time. When we picked you up from jail, and I saw how ashamed you were, I knew then.”

 

He took Ian's hand and led them both to the couch.

“What happened to Yevgeny now,” he said, holding Ian's hand in his lap. “It was fucking scary. We could've lost him, and who knows? Maybe we could've lost him when you up and the fuck off with him.”

He sighed deeply. “And maybe this all just was some fucking horrible mistake on everybody's part-mostly theirs-”

Ian managed a soft chuckle at that, sniffling.

“The good thing is we know now, that part's over,” Mickey continued. “And Yevgeny's getting better everyday, and we're all okay.”

The back door opened and Gavrel shut it behind him loudly.

“Izzy pooped on herself,” he announced.

“Fucking gross kid,” Mickey said. “Alright, send her inside.”

Gavrel went back out and slammed the kitchen door once more. Mickey kissed Ian's temple.

“Whatever Mrs. Gerber does, she does, but if you wanna drop this thing, I will.” He nuzzled his nose and mouth into Ian's hair and against his ear. “For you.”

 

Yevgeny made a full recovery and returned to school with little complications other than his whining that he had to miss gym class for a few more weeks. Ian and Mickey were never really sure what happened to Mrs. Gerber. Her house went up for sale but they never got word from authorities that she'd confessed.

Time went by and soon Yevgeny had celebrated his ninth birthday, Gavrel his fifth, and Izzy her third. Svetlana started dating Alex Russo, the doctor who'd treated Yevgeny, and it turned out he had kids of his own-both in high school living with their mother. Mickey and Ian had been wary of him being around their children at first, any man actually, but after a few barbecues, dinners, and holidays spent with him, they gave him a mental A-Okay. He moved Svetlana out of her apartment and into his country club house across town, giving all three kids their own bedroom when they stayed with their mother.

Fiona and Jimmy had a baby boy, Rory, and now Ian and Mickey had a new baby to fawn to over and have stay the night in their home-both of them missing baby days (even Mickey though he'd never admit it).

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They didn't have their next family crisis until Ian's medication stopped working, which his doctors constantly warned them of. At almost every check up they told him that his medication may need to be adjusted or even changed because he could develop an immunity to them.

 

“Daddy!” Gavrel said, opening the front door where he was followed by Yevgeny. They'd just gotten off the school bus two houses down.

Yevgeny already knew something was wrong. He'd seen Ian act differently before, but it was usually just crying and it ended within days. Ian was lying in bed, fully clothed when they found him. The house was a mess and Izzy was still in her pajamas, her hair unbrushed.

“Daddy? Are you sick?” Gavrel asked, climbing onto the bed.

“Has he been like this for a while?” Yevgeny asked Izzy.

“He said he doesn't feel good,” the three year old replied simply. “He didn't even wanna eat lunch. I ate peanut butter with a spoon.”

“Daddy?” Yevgeny asked, and then more forcefully, “Dad?”

“Guys, I don't feel good, go out of here,” Ian said, his voice sounding far away.

“Do you want me to get the thermometer?” Gavrel asked, draping himself over Ian's side.

Ian sat up abruptly, startling the five year old.

“I want you to get out!” He snapped. “Jesus! Fucking kids!”

Yevgeny, Gavrel, nor Izzy had never heard Ian speak so harshly, especially directed at them. Ian flopped back onto the bed on his side, and Yevgeny picked up Izzy, who began to whimper and then sob.

“Come on,” he told Gavrel.

Yevgeny got Izzy dressed and tried to brush her hair, but she wriggled away from him and he didn't want to fight her over knots. He tidied up the house and put a cartoon on for the little ones. He found Ian's phone and scrolled down to Mickey's number. He sent him a text message.

 

'Daddy, come home please hurry. Yevvie.'

 

Mickey called almost instantly after the text message was sent.

 

“What's going on?” He wanted to know. “Everything okay?”

 

“Dad's...Dad's sick,” Yevgeny said, feeling his eyes sting with tears at the memory of being yelled at. “He's in bed. He screamed at us.”

 

The line was silent for a moment, and Yevgeny thought maybe the call had dropped. Finally, his father spoke.

 

“Where are the little ones?” Mickey asked.

 

“In the living room with me,” Yevgeny replied.

 

“Don't go up to my room, okay?” Mickey told him. “I'm about to be home.”

 

Yevgeny's throat clotted. “Okay.”

 

“It's gonna be alright, Yev,” Mickey said. “I love you.”

 

“Love you,” Yevgeny choked out and then hung up, looking towards the stairs.

 

Mickey was there in almost fifteen minutes and Izzy and Gavrel ran to hug him. Mickey gave them a brief hug and kiss and exchanged a knowing look with his oldest. Yevgeny hugged him too, feeling like crying again, but he knew he had to be strong this time.

 

Mickey went upstairs by himself and stayed up there a long time, almost an hour and a half. Izzy and Gavvie continuously tried to go up and see what they were doing, but Yevgeny wouldn't let them. Finally, Mickey returned.

 

“Daddy's sick?” Izzy asked, chewing on the collar of her shirt.

 

“He'll be alright,” Mickey said. “I'm gonna stay home and take Daddy to the doctor tomorrow.”

 

Yevgeny was old enough now to see the worry in his father's eyes, even as he put on a cheerful facade for the kids.

 

“Hey, how about I call in a pizza, huh?” Mickey asked, and Izzy and Gavrel hopped up and down excitedly.

 

Yevgeny crept upstairs, muttering about going to get his homework, and stopped at his parents' bedroom door. He opened it a crack and then some more, stepping inside. Ian was still on his side, only now it was dark outside. Yevgeny crawled onto the bed, stopping mid-way, in case Ian was going to snap again.

When Ian did nothing, Yevgeny spooned up against him and played with some of his hair.

“I love you, Daddy,” he whispered, sitting up halfway to kiss Ian's forehead.

He thought he heard Ian mutter 'I love you' back, but he wasn't sure. The box fan was humming too loudly.

“Yev?” Mickey opened the door, and it startled the nine-year-old. “Come on. Get out here.”

“Okay.” Yevgeny scrambled off the bed and followed Mickey out.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Yevgeny didn't sleep well that night, and he knew Mickey didn't either. He kept hearing him get up and walk around. Around eleven-thirty, Yevgeny got out of bed and found his father at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee.

“What are you doin' up?” Mickey asked, concerned.

Yevgeny didn't say anything. He just took the chair on Mickey's left and dragged it until the two chairs were touching. He sat down and leaned against his father. Mickey sighed and scrunched his hair.

“What's wrong with Dad?” Yevgeny asked, letting Mickey rub his hair.

He knew it was Bipolar Disorder-he'd heard it enough in his life, especially when it came to medication, doctor visits, and those rare times Ian would get easily irritated or his feelings hurt, but he'd never seen him like this.

“Depression,” Mickey said. “The bipolar can mess with his feelings and make him feel super happy and excited or super sad and tired and he can't control it all the time. That's why he takes meds.”

“Did he stop taking his meds?” Yevgeny wanted to know.

“No, the medicine sometimes needs to be changed,” his father said. “We'll go to the doctor, see what she says.”

He tapped Yevgeny's chin, motioning for the nine-year-old to look up at him.

“It doesn't make us love him any less,” he said. “And it doesn't make him love you any less, kay?”

Yevgeny nodded numbly. It sure didn't feel that way when Ian had yelled at them to get out. Mickey continued to rub his hair and then tugged at his ear.

“You got school,” he muttered. “Go to bed, alright?”

Yevgeny dutifully got up and Mickey gave his shoulder a little squeeze.

“I'm proud of you, Yev,” he said. “For holdin' down the fort they way you did.”

Yevgeny nodded and traveled up the stairs back to his room. He stopped at his parents' door, and almost opened it again, but didn't. He went back to his own bed and stayed there.

======================================================================

 

It was odd having Mickey get him and Gavrel up and ready for school instead of Ian, who normally did it because Mickey had to be at work at five am. This year, the middle school Ian had been the ROTC instructor for cut a lot of the funding so Ian was out of a job until the ROTC program came back. He joked that he was a “house husband” for the time being.

“Hey, Kiddos,” Mickey said, flipping on the lights to the boys room. He was holding Izzy, who sucked on her thumb and laid her head on her father's shoulder. “Rise and shine.”

Yevgeny got up and gathered his clothes for school. Mickey set Izzy down to help Gavrel get dressed. After Yevgeny brushed his teeth and dressed, he came back into the bedroom and stared at Izzy, who was also dressed.

“Where's Izzy going today?” He asked, knowing Ian could not take care of her as he normally did.

“Daycare,” Mickey said. “Just like she did last year when me and Dad both worked.”

“Daddy's still in bed?” Gavrel asked, sitting on the floor to attempt to tie his shoes.

“Daddy's tired?” Izzy asked.

Mickey hesitated, moving to tie Gavrel's shoes instead of answering right away. Yevgeny watched him, wondering what he would tell the younger children.

“Daddy's not feelin' good,” He finally said. “I'm gonna take him to the doctor today.”

“He's gonna get a shot?” Izzy asked.

“Probably just some pills,” Mickey told her, and when she looked worried, he hitched up her little cotton leggings that were falling.

Yevgeny suddenly felt sad, remembering how Ian always joked in a funny voice when Izzy's pants rode down, “I see Izzy-Dizzy's booty crack”-only he always made 'crack' sound like 'quack'.

It always made all three kids laugh, especially when Ian would turn her over and pretend like he was going to bite her on her rear end.

Yevgeny slinked out of the room and went to his parents' bedroom and opened the door a little bit. Ian was still lying in bed. Yevgeny peeked out into the hallway and could hear Mickey corralling the little ones into the bathroom to help them brush their teeth. He quietly shut the bedroom door and crawled onto the bed.

“Daddy?” He asked.

“Leave me alone,” Ian said quietly.

Yevgeny shook him, suddenly feeling angry at him to leave his family to deal with all of this. To leave his other father to deal with it alone.

“Dad!” He said, more sternly. “Get up! You're fine. You're not sick!”

“Fuck, Yev!” Ian shook his arm back. “Get away from me.”

It stung more than it should have-'get away from me' like Yevgeny was vile in some way, unwanted. The nine-year-old started crying and screamed, “You're not sick!'

Mickey opened the door and grabbed Yevgeny around the waist and pulled him back as he continued to sob. He set Yevgeny down on the floor and glanced at Ian, who sat up, holding his head. Yevgeny sniffled angrily, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I told you to stay out of here,” Mickey said, but was still looking at Ian.

“You're not sick, Dad!” Yevgeny barked at Ian, ignoring his other father.

“Ian?” Mickey asked carefully.

Ian stared blankly at them, his focus far away even though he was looking right at them. After several seconds, he shifted slightly, grunting like he was beyond exhausted, and held out his hands, beckoning.

“ 'mere,” he murmured, and Mickey watched as Yevgeny all but flew onto the bed into Ian's arms, sobbing.

Mickey scrubbed a hand down his mouth. Since Ian's diagnosis, he'd never seen anything like this during his lows. Ian rested his cheek on top of Yevgeny's head, and closed his eyes. Mickey retrieved his phone from his pocket to look at the time. He already knew he would not be sending Yevgeny and Gavrel to school today. He hesitantly sat down on the bed with them, and Ian opened his eyes to look at him. Mickey looked back at Ian. His husband's eyes were still swollen with sleep and vacant, but Mickey knew he was not as far gone as he normally was at these times.

===================================================================================

“Counseling?” Mickey asked, disgusted as he threw the pamphlet down on the kitchen table. Izzy, who was in his lap, picked it up and opened it, even though she could not read any of the small words.

Lip, who had come over to help, was holding Gavrel.

“It could help,” he said. “I mean, we're adults. We know how fucked up this all is, but the kids don't get it. It's gonna be hard on them, Mickey.”

Mickey sighed through his nose and reached his hand up to rub at his tired, irritated eyes. He knew what Lip said was true. The kids had never really experienced a real bipolar episode. Izzy put the pamphlet down on the table top again and wriggled around on her father's lap. He set her down on the floor to go free and she ran off. Gavrel hopped off of his uncle's lap as well, chasing after her.

“What'd the doctor say?” Lip asked.

“Haven't gone yet,” Mickey said. “It's not like I can put Ian in a wheelbarrow and push him there. I have to wait for him to get up and move around a little. Should be a couple of days.”

“Think he built an immunity to the med combinations?” Lip guessed.

“Fuck if I know,” Mickey grumbled. “I fucking counted his pills this morning.”

He said it bitterly, ashamed of himself to even think that Ian could be responsible for his illness. He drummed his fingers against the table top, avoiding Lip's stare.

“You're doin' the best you can,” his brother in law finally told him. “Everyone knows how much you care about him.”

“You really think seein' some shrink will help them?” Mickey asked, eyeing the pamphlet again.

“It might,” Lip replied with a small shrug.

======================================================================================

Once Ian did start to get up and move around, he readily agreed to go to the doctor with Mickey a few days later. Ian was treated by a regular psychiatrist he'd been going to since Mickey got health insurance through his job at the plant years ago. Her name was Dr. Patricia Terry and she was so soft-spoken and understanding that Ian and Mickey had never thought about twice switching doctors. Mickey held Ian's hand as they sat in her plush, comfortable office.

“How are the rugrats?” She asked, looking over Ian's chart.

“They're good,” Ian said, forcing a smile. “Growin' up a little fast.”

“They'll do that,” she agreed, nodding. “My Lizzie's already getting married. Can you believe that?”

She got right down to business, asking Ian how he felt on his current combination of pills and what his diet was like and how much exercise he got and if he was into drugs or alcohol (he wasn't allowed to drink on the meds and did a fairly good job not to).

“Ian-” she sat down and removed her spectacles that hung from a chain. “I know you've done this before, and it's not the most pleasant experience, but I'd like to suggest some hospital time.”

Ian squeezed Mickey's hand and Mickey looked at him long enough to catch the fear in his eyes.

“You mean like a psych ward?” Mickey asked her.

Dr. Terry nodded.

“Ian left a message on my voice mail a few days ago.” She looked at Ian and asked gently, “Do you remember that?”

Ian shook his head and said in a small voice, “No.”

“You expressed thoughts of suicide,” she said slowly. “I tried to call back and got Fiona-I guess she was staying with you. I couldn't discuss the call with her, naturally, but she assured me you were alright and I told her to pass the message onto the both of you that I would be on-call if need be and left my cell number.”

Fiona had not passed a message. Mickey looked at Ian, who looked away, blinking back tears.

“I would like to try some hospital therapy,” she continued. “It wouldn't be for long. Maybe a week or two at the most, but if it helps, you could try regular group therapy again.”

“I can't be away from my family,” Ian choked out, and Mickey rubbed his back.

Dr. Terry nodded in her knowing way.

“I really feel this could help your family,” she said. “Help _you_ , Ian. As of right now, I have no other medication to prescribe without observation except for the ones you're not fond of, and we're not even sure if they would work.”

Ian nodded, wiping away at tears that were sliding down his cheeks.

“I promise it would be a short stay,” she continued. “There would be no sedation of any kind. Mickey and the children would have full visitation rights and you would be free to check out at any time.”

Ian looked at Mickey.

“You think this will really help him?” Mickey asked, holding his husband's hand again.

Dr. Terry folded her hands in her lap and said, “After he expressed wanting to end his life, I think this is the best option. Bipolar disorder has no pattern. You never know when he might actually really hurt himself.”

“I'm sorry, Mick.” Ian sobbed once they were in the car. “I don't remember making that call.”

Mickey patted his hand and then removed his own hand to start the ignition.

“Whatever you wanna do,” he told Ian. “That's what we'll do.”

He glanced at Ian again, Ian staring down at his lap, tears sliding down his cheeks. He rubbed some of Ian's hair.

“Hey,” he said. “I love you.”

Ian took his hand and kissed it.

==========================================================================

“What?!” Yevgeny exclaimed that night as the whole family sat at the kitchen table.

“Daddy's going away someplace?” Gavrel asked, and looked at Ian. “Are you going to jail? The police got you? You robbed the grocery store, Daddy?”

Ian chuckled weakly, shaking his head.

“No, I didn't rob the grocery store, Gavvie,” he said.

Mickey managed a small smile too and said, “Daddy needs to go to the hospital and stay there a few days. Just a few fuckin' days. No big deal.”

“No!” Izzy whined, moving out of her chair to go over to Ian and climb into his lap. “My daddy!”

Ian kissed her hair and moved her into a position to fit more comfortably on his lap, wrapping his arms around her.

“It is a big deal!” Yevgeny argued. “Dad, where are you going?”

“The psychiatric hospital,” Ian told him. “I've...I've been there before. They helped me before.”

“You're not sick,” Yevgeny said firmly. “You're okay, Dad. You don't need to go to the hospital. I'll keep you happy, okay? Aunt Fiona said you're depressed-”

“It's not that kind of depressed, Yevvie,” Mickey said gently. “Okay? Remember we talked about this?”

Yevgeny threw Mickey a desperate look and then turned back to Ian.

“You're not sick, Dad,” he tried again. “Stay here.”

“Not sick, Daddy,” Izzy repeated, shaking her head solemnly. “All better.”

“We're gonna go see a doctor too, while he's gone for a little while,” Mickey said. “A psychologist. Kind of like the doctor Dad sees.”

“We're sick too?” Gavrel asked, his eyebrows raising in amusement.

“No, we're not-” Mickey sighed in frustration and said, “A doctor that helps you sort out your feelings and shit, alright?”

“When are you leaving?” Yevgeny asked Ian.

“After you guys go to school,” Ian said, rubbing his hair affectionately. “But I'll be back.”

Yevgeny stood up and shoved his chair, making it hit the ground sideways. He'd never done anything like that. He looked at Mickey and said, “This is your fault!”

“The fuck, Yev?” Mickey stood up.

“You took him to the doctor today and now he's going to the mental hospital!” Yevgeny snapped at him.

“Yevgeny, Dad didn't do anything,” Ian said gently. “He's helping me, okay?”

Yevgeny then ran into Mickey's arms, sobbing. Mickey picked him up with a deep sigh and said, “We're goin' to that fuckin' shrink. I don't know what to do.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Yevgeny sat in class trying to focus on Ms. Hebert as explained the parts of a flower. He knew at home, if it hadn't already happened, that Ian would be leaving to stay at the psychiatric hospital. It was a foreign concept to Yevgeny, but from what he'd seen in movies, he imagined Ian all by himself in a padded room wearing a straight jacket. He wondered if they would really put Ian in a straight jacket. He wondered if Ian would be hungry. Would they give him enough to eat? What would he even eat? Yevgeny wondered what he was even going to eat that night. When Mickey cooked, which wasn't often-it was usually pizza with a side of pizza or macaroni and cheese or Hamburger Helper. Ian was the one who actually cooked meals.

He felt his eyes clouding with tears, feeling ashamed that he was worried about what one of his fathers was going to cook for dinner while the other one was going to be all by himself in a straight jacket, probably hungry.

“Okay, guys!” Ms. Hebert clapped. “Everyone partner up so we can look at our flowers!”

She looked around and asked, “Yevgeny? Would you mind running a note to the office for me?”

Yevgeny looked up, his cheeks hot and his eyes stinging with tears that would surely fall as soon as he blinked. He nodded and followed her out into the hallway. She pulled the door to.

“Is everything alright?” She asked in a quiet voice, crouching down.

Again, Yevgeny nodded.

“You don't look alright,” she said. “You know you can tell me anything, or if you like, you can go talk to Ms. Star.”

Ms. Star was the school counselor. Yevgeny shook his head. He did not want to talk to Ms. Star. He did not want to talk to anyone. He wanted to be alone to cry.

“Is everything alright at home?” She prodded. “How about Gavrel? How's he doing?”

“He's fine,” Yevgeny said.

“What about your mom?” Ms. Hebert asked. “Or your dads?”

Yevgeny blinked and the tears began sliding down his cheeks. Ms. Hebert rubbed his shoulder.

“I want you to go to talk to Ms. Star, okay?” She said gently. “Or if you'd like, I can have somebody stand in the class for a few moments and you and I can go talk.”

A boy from another third grade class was walking by with a box of recyclable paper. He gave Yevgeny an odd look, but didn't stop. Two teachers peeked out of their class room doors and then shut them.

“Go talk to Ms. Star,” Ms. Hebert said. “Tell her I sent you.”

Yevgeny did as he was told and traveled across the building to the front office and told the clerk, “Ms. Hebert told me to talk to Ms. Star.”

He hoped the clerk wouldn't ask why, and to his relief, she just nodded and walked him to the door, which was royal blue and covered with photographs of different children from the school. She opened it and said, “Ms. Star? You have a visitor.”

Ms. Star was an older, but pretty lady from South Africa. A lot of the children enjoyed her unique accent. Yevgeny did too, usually, but today he didn't enjoy anything.

“Hello.” She smiled. “I've seen you around. What's your name?”

“Yevgeny,” he said.

“Have a seat, Yevgeny.” She pointed to a bright red kid sofa.

Yevgeny sat. Everything in the room was so colorful, so pleasant, and he thought about Ian's all-white padded cell he would surely have and it made his throat clot again. Ms. Star sat in a cushy chair with wheels.

“What brings you in today?” She asked.

“Ms. Hebert told me to,” he replied.

“You look troubled,” she said. “Is something bothering you?”

Yevgeny lived by the golden rule around the neighborhood that snitches get stitches, but he figured this wasn't the same thing. He wasn't really snitching on anyone.

“My dad-” he said, and then explained. “I have two dads.”

Ms. Star nodded, looking at him and nodding, the way grown ups talked to each other. It made him feel a tiny bit better.

“One of my dads has Bipolar disorder,” he said. “And he cries sometimes and, I mean, I thought I knew what it was, but now it got real bad and he has to go to the hospital. The mental hospital.”

He wondered if this news would shock the school counselor, but she just said, “Oh” with a nod, like Yevgeny was telling her his dog got out.

“My other dad, my daddy-the one who made me,” Yevgeny stumbled through his speech, hoping having two fathers wasn't confusing her the way it did some people. “He doesn't know what to do, and he's real scared, I can tell, and he told me I was holding down the fort at home but I don't think I really can hold down the fort because I'm scared too and I just don't want my dad to go to the hospital because they'll lock him up and put a straight jacket on him and-”

The words tumbling out of his mouth, Yevgeny began to cry. Ms. Star moved to his side with a box of Kleenex. He took one and blew his nose.

“It's hard having to be so brave, isn't it?” She said.

“Yes.” Yevgeny nodded.

“Yevgeny?” She touched his shoulder. “You see straight jackets on television? The patient's always in a room all by themselves, right?”

Yevgeny nodded again.

Ms. Star smiled gently at him and said, “That's not what really happens. Not where your dad is going, okay? It's not anything like that.”

“I don't want him to go at all,” Yevgeny argued, sniffling.

======================================================================================

“Mick,” Jason said, walking into the small office that Mickey and four other supervisors shared at the plant. They hardly used it because they were always out doing the work for their employees because it just got done faster. “You got a call. Your kid's school.”

“Fuck,” Mickey muttered. He had been looking online at different family counselors like Lip and Fiona had been harassing him to. He followed Jason to the other end of the office and took the phone.

“Yes? Hello?” He asked.

“Mr. Milkovich, hello,” someone with an accent said. “Sorry to bother you at work, but-”

“I'm sorry,” Mickey said, his brows furrowing. “Who is this?”

“This is Eileen Star, I'm the counselor here at Forest Elementary,” she replied. “I just dismissed your son, Yevgeny?”

“He okay?” Mickey asked, wishing Jason wasn't milling around the office eating a sandwich like a fucking lingerer.

“He told me about what's been going on at home,” Ms. Star said. “I'm sorry to hear things are so difficult right now. I was hoping maybe I could talk to you about family counseling.”

“I'm actually looking into that,” Mickey said. “My husband's doctor said it would be good for the kids.”

He didn't like that this stranger was trying to get in his family business, but he also knew his son well enough to know he didn't just go blabbing about their drama at home. Yevgeny wasn't a blabbermouth. He kept things bottled up inside the way Mickey did until they came out accidentally.

“But Yevgeny's okay?” He asked, staring at Jason who was clumsily opening packets of mustard to put on his foot-long.

“He's fine,” Ms. Star said. “If you need any assistance with finding a counselor, I'd be happy to help.”

“Thanks, I got it for right now,” Mickey said.

After he hung up, Jason looked over, his mouth stuffed with turkey and lettuce.

“What's goin' on?” He asked.

“Nothing. Fuck off,” Mickey said.

“Ian okay?” Jason prodded.

“I had to take him to the psych ward this morning,” Mickey said, hating that he was now the one blabbing about his home drama. “Bipolar shit's got him actin' nuts.”

Jason nodded and said, “Fuck.”

“Now my kid's fallin' apart at school and getting sent to the guidance office,” Mickey continued, feeling a little better that he had someone to talk to that wasn't a fucking Gallagher who were all so smug about Bipolar disease, even after all these years that Mickey had been married to Ian.

“They've never seen him like that?” Jason guessed. “My boys have seen Rachel nut up a million times. Fuckin' pill head whore.”

“Yeah, well your ex-wife made her own bed,” Mickey said. “Ian can't help this shit and he tries really hard not to let the kids know about it.”

“Remember when I came to work with that black eye?” Jason asked. “Rachel got me with one of the boys' rollerblades.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. His coworker was obviously not concerned with Mickey's life, but Mickey preferred it that way, even if it had been somewhat of a relief to talk about it, even if just for a few minutes.

\-------------------=======================================================================

Mickey wished Svetlana and Alex would hurry up and return home from their trip. His ex-wife picked a fucking lousy time to go to Arizona. Just so she and Alex could see the Grand Canyon. What was so great about a giant hole anyway?

It was hard enough taking Ian back to the psychiatric hospital, signing papers again and leaving him there, but it was even harder not even having time to grieve about it because of three kids. He had made arrangements to leave work early to pick the boys up from school and Izzy from daycare. Gavrel and Izzy, who still didn't really have a handle on what was going on, were wild in the afternoon, running around the house and back and forth from the kitchen to the backyard, tracking mud in the kitchen. Yevgeny laid low in his room, either to avoid helping with the little ones or to avoid talking to his father about what had happened at school.

Mickey had picked up some frozen skillet meal on the way home from picking up the kids and attempted to heat it on the stove and keep an ear out for the kids. The TV played some obnoxious preschool school loudly.

“Daddy, I'm hungry,” Izzy said, trying to climb up onto the counter top beside him.

Ian usually had Izzy up there as he cooked, happily explaining everything he was doing and letting her sample bits here and there, but Mickey knew he didn't have that kind of control with a three-year-old near a hot stove, so he shooed her away.

“Where's Daddy Ian?” She whined.

“At the hospital, remember?” Mickey reminded her. “He'll be home in a few days.”

“I want Daddy to come home,” Gavrel said, walking into the kitchen. “Call him, Dad.”

  
“No, guys-” Mickey sighed. “Doesn't work that way, alright?”

“Daddy, hold me.” Izzy tugged on his leg.

“Not now, Iz,” Mickey said. “I'm tryin' to make dinner...or something.”

“Hold me!” Izzy whined, pulling at the hem of his shirt now.

“Hey! Stop that!” Mickey barked. “You two get outta here. Fuck.”

“Hold me!” She tried again.

“Izzy!” Mickey raised his voice.

Yevgeny came to his rescue, walking into the kitchen and taking one of his board games to the kitchen table.

“Who wants to play Candyland?” He asked them.

“Me!” Both of his siblings said, running over to the table.

“The lollipop girl!” Izzy exclaimed, pointing to the board. She didn't really know how to play, but she liked to pretend that she was playing with them.

Mickey breathed a slight sigh of relief and finished cooking the chicken pasta whatever it was. He fixed the kids plates and spread margarine on slices of bread to go with it. He let them finish their game before he made them put it up so they could eat. As soon as the game was put away, the kids scrambled to the table and Mickey served them their plates. It was finally a little more quiet once they began to eat.

After dinner was over, Mickey gave Gavrel and Izzy their bath and then Yevgeny showered and then once the kids were in bed, Mickey finally showered. When he got out of the shower, he found Yevgeny sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“You okay?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah.” Yevgeny said, watching as Mickey returned to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he returned, he sat down on the bed and sighed.

“C'meme.” He pulled Yevgeny close to him and kissed his forehead. He wasn't good with words, but Yevgeny was okay with that. He wasn't either.

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” He asked.

“Yeah, fuck. Why not?” Mickey got under the covers, and so did Yevgeny.

“What's the psych ward like?” Yevgeny asked once it was dark and all was quiet except for the AC and the box fan.

“Some beds, some doctors and nurses walking around...” Mickey said, unsure of what Yevgeny was really asking.

“Do you think Dad misses us right now?” Yevgeny asked in a small voice.

“I know he does,” Mickey said. “And we miss him too, but that's good, right? I mean, we'd have a problem if we didn't miss him.”

He tried to say it like it was funny, but Yevgeny didn't laugh. He snuggled up close to his father. Mickey rubbed his back, staring up at the dark ceiling. It only took a few minutes before the nine-year-old was fast asleep, but for Mickey, sleep didn't come for a long time.

\--=========================================================

Mickey missed work the following day to go see Ian. After signing in and receiving his visitor's badge, he waited in the lounge area for his husband. Next to him was a tired looking woman, talking on the phone to someone called 'Pappy' about how annoyed she was to be there.

“Mickey?”

The sweet sound of Ian's voice pulled him away from his eavesdropping. Ian smiled shyly as he entered the lounge area and Mickey stood up to embrace him, inhaling his unique scent. Ian hugged him back.

“How are you?” Mickey asked, sliding his hands down Ian's arms to hold his hands. He noticed the woman talking to Pappy was watching them now.

“You didn't bring the kids?” Ian's brows furrowed slightly.

“They're at school,” Mickey reminded him. He raised his eyebrows towards the wrap around couch and Ian followed him.

“Have you talked to a doctor yet?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah, a couple actually,” Ian said, nodding.

Mickey nodded too. “Okay...and...what'd they say?”

Ian sighed and said, “They said I'm depressed, they're going to try me on new meds, I'm stressed...the usual.”

“Ian...” Mickey licked his lips and lowered his voice. “You told Dr. Terry that you wanted to kill yourself. We need to get you help. Better help. Did they say anything about that?”

Ian shook his head and looked down at his lap. “No.”

When he looked back up he said, “One of them told me the new medication he'd like to try could...”

“Could what?” Mickey asked worriedly.

“Be Lithium all over again,” Ian said quietly. “I don't want that.”

“Ian, you want whatever's gonna keep you fucking on top of all this,” Mickey said, not quietly. He lowered his voice again and asked, “Wait. Are you worried about...?”

Ian looked away, and Mickey snapped his fingers in his face.

“Look at me,” he said. “I don't care about that, okay? We've worked through that before.”

Ian scoffed softly. “You don't care if we can't fuck?”

The Pappy lady was all ears now, and eyes, staring at them shamelessly. Mickey frowned at her. She got up and moved away to the other side of the couch.

“What I care about,” Mickey said, taking Ian's hand and rubbing his thumb against it. “Is bringing you home.”

“How are the kids?” Ian asked.

“Gavvie and Izzy are fucking awful as usual,” Mickey said. “Yevvie's scared as shit.”

“Did you remember to give Izzy the last of her antibiotic?” Ian asked.

“Fuck. No.” Mickey rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

“Did you go over Gavvie's reading assignments?” Ian asked. “He has to read one of those books from the red basket to you every night. Did you-”

“Ian, I haven't remembered to do shit, okay?” Mickey said. “I'm worried about the kids, about you in here-ever since Dr. Terry said you called her, I've been freakin' out.”

Ian averted his gaze. Mickey knew it wasn't right of him to talk about how pitiful he was when Ian was the one with the illness in the mental hospital, but Ian was his rock the way he was Ian's. They only had each other to lean on.

“How's therapy?” He finally asked.

Ian said nothing. Mickey grew concerned. He brushed his thumb over Ian's cheek.

“Hey? You okay?” He asked him.

Ian blinked back tears and said, “You should get back.”

He started to stand up and Mickey took his hand and used his other to cup Ian's face, trying to get him to look at him.

“It's okay,” he said, pulling him in for an actual kiss.

To his surprise, Ian kissed him back. Neither of them cared who was watching.

“I'll try the medication,” Ian breathed close to Mickey's face. “But I know how pathetic it is when I can't...when we can't...”

He wiped at his eyes.

“Nothing about you is pathetic,” Mickey said firmly. “You ready for us to go talk to one of the doctors? See about bringin' you home today?”

Ian nodded.

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Mickey was startled awake by loud pounding at the front door downstairs. He hadn't slept well anyway, so it didn't rouse from a heavy sleep. The kids were already up and in the living room when he came downstairs cocking his pistol. He never answered the door without being prepared.

“Get back,” he muttered to Gavrel, looking through the peek hole. It was Alex and Svetlana.

“Mama!” Izzy cried when Mickey answered the door.

Svetlana smiled and opened her arms for Izzy to jump into. She then crouched down to welcome Gavrel and Yevgeny's hug. She kissed them all over the tops of their heads and their faces.

“Hey, Mick,” Alex greeted warmly, shaking his hand.

Svetlana moved into the house with the smaller children hanging onto her, chattering away about her trip to Arizona.

“It was beautiful,” she told Mickey. “And then, Alex surprise me. Take me to Vegas last two days.”

Alex held up a large shopping bag and set it down on the floor. Svetlana began to dig around inside.

“I bring presents,” she said, handing souvenirs to the kids. “And look-”

She held up a t-shirt for Mickey to see. It read 'You don't scare me. I married a redhead'.

She grinned at Mickey and said, “For you. It's funny, yes? Where's Ian? I want him to see it. I got him a shirt too. It just says something about Las Vegas, but he can wear it to run or something...”

she slowed to a stop, finally catching on that the atmosphere wasn't a cheerful as she'd anticipated. She was still smiling, but there was concern in her eyes now.

“Where is Ian?” She asked, standing back up.

Izzy whimpered and tried to climb up her mother's torso. Alex picked her up and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Daddy's sick,” Gavrel said, no longer excited about the puzzle ball he was holding.

Svetlana looked at Mickey and asked, “The flu?”

“No, um...” Mickey rubbed the back of his head and said quietly, “he went into a funk. A bad one. He opted for psychiatric care.”

Svetlana's smile disappeared and her eyes widened, big and glittering and intense. She glanced at Alex and he rubbed Izzy's back. When she turned back to Mickey, she asked, “Why you not call? I would have come home right away. I would have been on next flight-”

“I didn't wanna ruin your trip,” Mickey said, trying not to get frustrated. “And besides, there's nothing you coulda done, you know?”  
“I could have taken the kids,” Svetlana argued. She went into full mother-hen mode. “Are you okay?”

She pulled Gavrel against her side, rubbing his head.

“Well, we came to get the kids today,” Alex said, trying to be helpful. “But if you want, I can take the kids if you need Lana for anything.”

“No, no, I'm good, thanks,” Mickey said with a deep sigh. To the kids, he asked, “Ready to go? I know you've missed Mom.”

Svetlana said something to them in Russian and then prodded them towards the stairs. “Go use restroom. Grab anything you might need.”

“Mama, come with me,” Gavrel said, tugging at her hand.

Svetlana briefly looked at Mickey before ascending the stairs, Alex trailing behind her with Izzy. Yevgeny lagged behind.

“You need to take anything with you to Mom's?” Mickey asked him.  
“I'm not going to Mom's,” Yevgeny said.

“Yes, you are,” Mickey said. “You need a break from all this shit.”

Yevgeny shook his head and said, “You don't need to be by yourself.”

“I'm a big guy,” Mickey said, a bit more gently as he stroked some of Yevgeny's bangs which were in need of a trim. “I'll be alright, Kiddo.”

Svetlana and the herd returned and Svetlana tapped Yevgeny on the head, speaking in rapid Russian looking up towards the stairs.

“Go,” she said in English. “Hurry up.”

“I'm staying here with Dad,” Yevgeny said, taking Mickey's hand.

“Yevvie,” Mickey said sternly. “Go with Mom.”

“But, Daddy-” Yevgeny started, and Svetlana rubbed his hair.

“Papa will feel better knowing you're not worrying,” she said in English, on purpose so Mickey could reinforce it.

“Yeah.” Mickey told him. “I'll be okay knowing you three are okay. Mom and Alex are probably excited to talk about that big fuckin' hole they saw in Arizona.”

Svetlana kissed Yevgeny playfull and said, “And we miss you so much. A whole week without my handsome boy!”

Yevgeny looked sadly at Mickey. Mickey pulled him into a hug and rubbed his back.

“I'll be okay,” he said. “Promise.”

After Svetlana and Alex left with the kids, Mickey picked up his keys and his wallet and drove the hour and a half drive it took to get to the psychiatric clinic. He had tried to bring Ian home early, but several doctors they spoke with together urged a longer to stay, to better observe and prescribe a different set of medications for him. Reluctantly, they had agreed.

================================================================================================

“Ian Gallagher,” Mickey said, knowing the drill once he was at the check-in desk. He was already holding his ID out.

Once he was in the waiting area that adjoined the recreation area, he waited impatiently on the uncomfortable wrap-around couch for his husband to be summoned. He was beyond happy when Ian finally came out.

“Hey,” he said, pulling Ian against him, kissing his cheek and then his lips.

“Hey.” Ian smiled a little. “Just got out of group.”

“Oh yeah?” Mickey took his hand and led him to the couch. They sat down together. “How'd that go?”

“Felt good to talk,” Ian said, nodding casually. “I mean it felt good to talk about it to people who get it, you know?”

He saw the brief hurt in Mickey's eyes and quickly said, “Not that you don't get it, but-”

“No, Man, it's cool.” Mickey patted his face and then rubbed his hair. He sighed through his nose and looked away, pretending to clear his sinuses.

“How're the kids?” Ian asked.

“Lana just picked 'em up,” Mickey said. “Yev didn't wanna go. He wanted to stay at the house.”

“Yev...” Ian said under his breath, his focus far away. He put his face in his hands, shaking his head.

“I said such shit things to him,” he muttered.

Mickey rubbed his back.

“Hey,” he said. “It's alright. He's gonna understand one day too.”

Ian looked up and blinked back a few tears, but quickly composed himself.

“How's Gavvie? How's Izzy?” He asked.

“They're doin' alright,” Mickey said. “They're goin' to Lana's now and I'm sure they'll be too busy to think about any of this. I mean, fuck, they're three and five.”

“You know I want to come home,” Ian said carefully.

“I know,” Mickey said, nodding dutifully. “But if you stay here a little longer, you may not have to get Lithium or whatever the fuck.”

He watched as Ian slowly threaded his fingers through Mickey's tattooed ones. Mickey gave his hand a little squeeze.

“Sometimes I think I should have just broken up with you that day,” Ian said, staring up at the ceiling as he reclined against the back of the couch. “The day we got married instead, I mean. I sometimes think you could've found someone better and then you wouldn't have to deal with my shit.”

“I knew exactly what the fuck I was doin' when I signed those papers,” Mickey told him, suddenly feeling less vulnerable than he normally did when it came to discussing feelings. “It's not your shit, alright? It's ours.”

Ian looked at him, staring into Mickey's eyes.

“You never even think about the what-ifs?” He asked in a small voice.

“I don't want to,” Mickey said softly. “This is it, Ian. This is everything I want, even if it means being here in the fuckin' nut house waiting on you to get better.”

======================================================================================

It was hard to leave Ian there once again, and even harder for Mickey not to beg him to come home. The house seemed painfully lonely when he got home. At least the kids had kept him busy. Now he had time to sit and sulk and feel bad about everything. He smoked and drank a beer or two and watched television, but he could only think about Ian. His cell phone ringing startled him as he stood up from the couch to go pee. It was Svetlana.

“Hey, Lana,” he said when he answered.

“It's Yevvie,” Yevgeny said.

Mickey sat down at the kitchen table.

“Hey, Man,” he said, a little more gently.

“Daddy, what are you doing?” Yevgeny asked.

“About to take a piss when you called,” Mickey admitted truthfully. “After that probably some TV and then bed. I went and saw Dad today. He's doin' a lot better.”

“Did he look better?” Yevgeny wanted to know.

“Yeah, he looked better,” Mickey said. “What are you doing?”

“Daddy, come get me,” Yevgeny said instead of answering. “I just want to be with you.”

Mickey sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“Alright, Kid, you win,” he said.

After he hung up, he picked up his keys again and drove across town to Alex's home where Svetlana lived and the kids half of the week. Svetlana seemed surprised when she opened the door and he asked, “Yev ready?”

“Ready?” Her brows furrowed and she let him inside.

“Daddy!” Gavrel and Izzy ran over to him and he pulled them against his middle, rubbing the backs of their heads.

“Yevgeny didn't tell you?” Mickey said to Svetlana.

“That you were coming?” She asked. “No.”

“He called and asked me to come get him,” Mickey explained. “I assumed he asked you if it was alright.”

He followed Svetlana into the kitchen where she was tending to dinner on the stove. She called for Yevgeny.

“You don't need him right now,” she said. “You shouldn't have to worry about the kids and Ian both.”

Yevgeny looked sheepish when he entered the kitchen and Svetlana gave him a look, placing one hand firmly on her hip.

Mickey waved his hand dismissively.

“ 's alright,” he said. To Yevgeny he asked, “Ready?”

“Can I go?” Yevgeny asked his mother.

She looked at Mickey, her eyebrows raised.

“Call me if you need me to come get him again,” she said.

On the drive back to the other house, Mickey turned on the radio, but Yevgeny turned it down.

“Were you scared when you first saw Dad like this?” He asked his father.

“Yeah,” Mickey said after several seconds. “I was real fuckin' scared.”

“He said he went to the psych ward before,” Yevgeny pointed out. “Do you remember that? Did you know him yet?”

Mickey nodded. He didn't really want to go into detail about Ian kidnapping him and leaving him locked inside of a hot car.

=======================================================================================

Once they were home, Yevgeny showered and changed into his pajamas and then the two of them watched a movie together. Yevgeny fell asleep on the sofa and Mickey woke him long enough to sleep walk him to the master bedroom where he figured he'd want to sleep again.

It was in the middle of the night when he noticed Yevgeny was not in the bed. He got up and walked into the hallway, and saw the bathroom door was open and the light was off.

“Yev?” He rasped out, still groggy.

He went into Yevgeny's bedroom and heard soft sniffling.

“Yevvie?” Mickey asked, still confused as he turned on the light.

Yevgeny was mostly asleep, but he'd obviously moved to his own bed and cried himself to sleep. He was holding one of Ian's workout shirts.

“Fuck,” Mickey said softly, biting his bottom lip and running a hand through his own hair.

It wasn't just Ian's shit or Mickey and Ian's shit. It was all of their shit.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Yev-meister, get up, Man.”

 

Yevgeny stirred, waking up to see Mickey moving around his room collecting dirty laundry. Several times during the night, Yevgeny had woken up in tears remembering what was all going on. His tear-stained eyes hurt and his voice sounded rough.

“I can't go to school today, Dad,” he said, and meant it.

“You ain't goin' to school,” his father said simply. “But we got shit to do. Get up. Go wash your face, Kid.”

Yevgeny did as he was told and once he was cleaned and dressed, he patiently waited to find out where they were going. After several minutes of Mickey putting away laundry and squaring the kitchen away, he finally asked his son, “You wanna go visit Dad today?”

Yevgeny nodded. Mickey nodded in return and said, “Alright then. Let's go.”

It was a long drive, one that required them to stop for breakfast at a diner along the way. Mickey ordered bacon and eggs. Yevgeny ordered pancakes. Usually, he and Ian would share pancakes and they would both eat bites of Mickey's bacon and eggs. This morning, Mickey finished his pancakes and Yevgeny had a strip of his bacon.

As they walked back out to the car, Mickey said, “Shouldn't be too much longer. We're halfway there already.”

They climbed in and Mickey started the engine. He looked at his son. Yevgeny looked back at him.

“What?” He asked.

“You know that when we get there,” Mickey said carefully. “Ian ain't comin' home with us, right? He wants to stay there until they can prescribe him the right meds. You can't go blubberin' when it's time to go home because it's already gonna be hard on him seein' you.”

Yevgeny felt dejected. He thought they were going to get Ian, not just visit him. Solemnly, he nodded, afraid that if he argued, Mickey would turn around and drive them back home.

As they drove, Mickey told Yevgeny stories of when he was younger, trying to cheer him up. He told him about when he was a toddler barely learning to walk, he'd bumped his head on the coffee table they used to have and got a cut.

“I got so fuckin' mad,” Mickey said. “I flipped that mother fuckin' table against the wall and I kid you not-it shattered. Ian was pissed, and I mean pissed. He kept sayin' shit like 'you're not setting a good example, Mickey' and 'It's just a table'.”

Yevgeny chuckled, picturing it easily in his head.

“Is that the maddest you've ever been?” Yevgeny asked.

“No, not even,” Mickey said, shaking his head.

===================================================================

Once they arrived, Yevgeny followed Mickey into the building-which looked normal enough, and went to a desk with a heavily secured door behind it. Mickey showed his ID and when asked his relationship to the patient said “husband” and when asked about Yevgeny said “son”.

The clerk looked warily at Yevgeny, but only said, “Remember that if he becomes disruptive, he'll need to be taken out.”

“Does he look like he's four?” Mickey asked, indignant. To Yevgeny he said, “Come on.”

Yevgeny followed Mickey to a large room that connected to another room with double doors. All of the patients were wearing T-shirts and sweat pants. None of them seemed terribly unhappy or restrained. They sat on a couch together and Mickey rubbed Yevgeny's back. Yevgeny turned to watch an older man talk to himself, laughing and gesturing like he was patting someone on the shoulder. A younger man walked by him scratching ferociously at his wrists, which were bandaged. His staring was interrupted when he felt familiar arms wrap around him and familiar lips kiss his cheek.

“Daddy!” He said excitedly, but not loudly as to disrupt the calm atmosphere.

“Hey, Buddy.” Ian moved around the couch and sat down next to him.

Yevgeny hugged him tight.

“See?” Mickey said, trying to sound reassuring. “All good, right?”

Yevgeny pulled back and wasn't sure what to make of Ian in the same matching gray and navy blue sweats everyone was wearing. He was also wearing a medical bracelet. Other than that, he seemed like his normal self.

“You didn't bring Gavvie and Izzy?” Ian asked Mickey.

“No, Yevvie ended up staying the night,” Mickey replied. “You just get out of group?”

“Starts in two hours,” Ian said.

“What's group?” Yevgeny wanted to know.

“Group therapy,” Ian explained. “There are some other people here with Bipolar disorder just like me, and we sometimes get together with a doctor and just talk.”

“Talk about what?” The nine-year-old asked.

“About how we're feeling, what it's like.” Ian shrugged.

Yevgeny looked around and then back at his father.

“You could talk to us about that at home too,” he pointed out. “I would listen.”

“Yev,” Mickey warned gently, but his eyebrows were raised high in their usual warning.

Ian smiled and patted Yevgeny's leg.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “And we will. When I get home, we'll sit down and have a really, good, long talk about this.”

A lady doctor approached them and Ian smiled knowingly at her and she shook Mickey's hand, introducing herself.

“Hi, I'm Dr. Huffman,” she introduced herself. “You must be Mickey.”

“Uh, yeah, hi,” Mickey said.

Yevgeny felt left out that she did not ask for his name. Instead, she talked to Mickey and Ian like he wasn't even there about therapy and observation and medical treatment options. When she left, Mickey tried his best to block a sigh.

“We'll give you all the time you need,” he told Ian.

Yevgeny said nothing because he wanted his father to come home right away. He did not want to give him all the time he needed.

They talked for a while longer, and finally Ian said, “I should go. Group'll be starting soon.”

“Yeah, Man.” Mickey stood up with him and they embraced and shared a kiss. Ian then leaned down and kissed Yevgeny's face again.

“I love you,” he murmured into the skin of Yevgeny's forehead.

“Love you,” Yevgeny said flatly.

“Hey, come on,” Mickey coaxed. “Give Daddy a hug. Tell him we'll see him soon.”

Yevgeny looked at Ian and felt his eyes stinging with tears. He curtly shook his head and turned away, not wanting to cry here.

“Yevvie,” Mickey patted his back.

Ian sat back down on the couch and pulled Yevgeny closer, who was blinking furiously now.

“I'll be home in one week, okay?” He told him. “I'm doing this for you guys. For Dad, and Gavvie, and Izzy, and you.”

“So you'll get better?” Yevgeny asked, but it came out more like a statement.

Ian hugged him and said, “Tell Mom and the little ones I said hi.”

Yevgeny nodded. He and Mickey watched Ian disappear through the double doors again and then Mickey tugged lightly at Yevgeny's hair.

“Let's roll,” he said.

Once they were back in the car, Yevgeny sat staring silently out the window. Mickey turned on the radio to give them some kind of noise. It was an even longer drive home.

==============================================================================================

Sevetlana ended up keeping the kids everyday the following week, giving Mickey time to go see Ian everyday and continue looking for family counseling. It was the longest seven days he remembered in a long time. Finally, the following Tuesday when Mickey went to go visit Ian, his husband told him he was ready to come home.

“Are you sure?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah.” Ian nodded. “I got almost a whole fuckin' sample case of cocktail meds, and I miss my family.”

Mickey gave him a one-armed hug and kissed the top of his head. They both stood up from the couch and Mickey flagged down the first employee he found to find out how to go about checking Ian out of the clinic. It was a pleasant ride home, now that Ian was coming with him. Mickey told him about the different child psychologists he'd spoken with, and Ian nodded, listening politely though inattentively. He stared out the passenger-side window.

===============================================================================

Yevgeny was in gym class when Coach Cooper called him over. She led him into her office and his heart almost stopped. He prepared for the worst news possible. She smiled at him and said, “Go to class and get your backpack and go to the office. You're leaving.”

Yevgeny wanted to ask why, but he knew she probably didn't know. He left the gymnasium and traveled down the hall to the third grade hallway where his class was. Ms. Hebert was not inside. The class room was dark. Yevgeny went to his cubby and got his backpack. When he got to the office, he saw Mickey, Ian, Gavrel, and Izzy. Ian was holding Izzy, who was latched onto him like she hadn't seen him in a million years and Gavrel was latched around his waist.

“Dad!” Yevgeny flew against him.

Ian squatted down and put Izzy on the floor. He pulled Yevgeny into an embrace and Yevgeny, embarrassed but unable to control himself, began to cry. The clerk at the desk smiled sweetly at them, glancing at Ms. Star, the school counselor, who was also standing there. Ian pushed Yevgeny back a little and wiped some of his tears away with the pads of his thumb. Yevgeny was smiling, but his bottom lip was trembling as tears streamed down his cheek. Ian pushed some hair out of his eyes.

“You need a hair cut,” he said, chuckling softly.

=====================================================================================

That evening,the kids stayed with their fathers, and to celebrate, Ian cooked a big pot of homemade spaghetti sauce with ground Italian sausage and frozen garlic toast that just needed to be heated in the oven. Dinner took longer than usual because they all stayed at the table longer, talking and laughing and after that Mickey served the kids each a popsicle. Ian sat down at the table, Izzy in his lap, eating his own popsicle.

“Did they give you a shot at the hopsicle?” Izzy asked him, red juice dripping down the front of her shirt.

Ian tried to catch it with a paper towel.

“A couple, actually,” he said.

“Did they give you a lollipop?” Gavrel wanted to know. “Like when we go to the doctor?”

“Did the doctor tell you no more jumping on the bed?” Izzy asked, smiling, bouncing up and down in his lap.

Mickey disappeared and returned with baby wipes to clean the little ones up, who were beyond sticky.

“Babe, I'll give 'em a bath,” Ian told him softly, but Mickey continued to clean them up.

“I'll help clean the kitchen,” Yevgeny volunteered.

Mickey and Yevgeny worked in mostly silence to clean up the dishes and wipe down the tabletop and the counters, but after a while, Mickey said, “You know I always forget how grown up you act sometimes.”

“I act grown up?” Yevgeny asked, trying not to beam.

Mickey nodded. “It's why I took you to see Ian. I knew you were mature enough to handle it.”

“Is Daddy going to stay?” Yevgeny asked. It was a question that had been trying to escape his mouth all afternoon.

“Yeah, Man, he's home.” Mickey kissed his head. “Don't worry, alright.”

Yevgeny knew, and he knew that Mickey knew, that it would be impossible not to worry now. He would watch his father like a hawk, always watching to see if he was slipping away, and maybe, he could find a way to stop it before it happened. He was going to become a Bipolar Disorder expert, he decided.

=========================================================================================

“Ian, are you sure?” Mickey asked once he and Ian were finally in bed, and Ian was already sucking on Mickey's neck. “We can wait-”

“I don't want to wait,” Ian breathed out. “Don't wanna fuckin' wait.”

Mickey grinned and so did Ian as their lips, teeth, and tongues came together. Ian guided his fingers to lace through Mickey's, and they both slept much better than they had in days that night. So did Yevgeny in his own room with Gavrel.

 


End file.
